


Afterglow

by tomatopudding



Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [34]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Body Worship, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cute, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, basking in the afterglow, but it happened off-screen, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: Prompt: Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420288
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Afterglow

**Author's Note:**

> Find the the kisses prompt list here.

They really are a study in opposites, Crowley thinks as he takes in the view. Aziraphale is round where he’s flat, soft where he’s bony. They just fit together. He loves the way the angel’s thick fingers cradle, protect, subsume his own spindly ones when they are interlaced this way, the comforting warmth and weight of them. Crowley brings their joint hands to his lips, presses one-two-three gentle kisses to the back of Aziraphale’s, mouths at his knuckles.

“Darling, if you’re trying to start something I’m afraid you won’t have any luck,” Aziraphale says, his voice gentle and soothing like a warm bath.

“M’not starting anything,” says Crowley, muffled by his lips being pressed against Aziraphale’s skin. He looks so beautiful, clad only in the remnants of sweat and a tangled bed sheet artfully draped.

  
And he really isn’t, doesn’t feel the need to. Crowley just want to revel in the fact that after all these years he is finally allowed to do this. He gives the same attention to each of Aziraphale’s fingers, peppering kisses on the knuckles and tips, before he reluctantly untangles them so that he can get to the angel’s palms. Aziraphale may keep himself pampered but he still has a little bit of hardness in his soft skin, calluses that come from the work he does on the side fixing and rebinding books. Crowley lays kisses there too, making a trail to Aziraphale’s wrist and nipping lightly at the tendon and then soothing with his tongue. Aziraphale hums in contentment, happily moving his arm this way and that so Crowley can continue his journey. The soft hairs of Aziraphale’s forearms tickle Crowley’s nose when he nuzzles--more like a cat than his actual serpentine essence--the crook of his elbow the softest skin of all. He wiggles his way closer to Aziraphale, kissing, nibbling, licking his way up the bicep--firm even beneath the softness, strong and sure and capable of single-handedly lifting Crowley in a move that always leaves him breathless--and to his shoulder, marking each of the sparse freckles with a token of his love and devotion, staying well away from the armpit because Aziraphale is horrendously ticklish and it would be terrible to ruin the moment with an inadvertent punch to the face. He’s half lying on Aziraphale now, one leg thrown over the angel’s hips as he makes a line of kisses along the angel’s collarbone, licks up the side of his neck and under his jaw. Their lips meet in a blissfully unhurried encounter, tasting. They are pressed together, skin to skin. When they part, Crowley’s eyelids are drooping and he holds back a yawn as he tucks his head under Aziraphale’s chin. Aziraphale wraps an arm around Crowley to pull him impossibly closer, murmurs  _ goodnight _ and Crowley drifts into sleep with the taste of angel skin on his tongue and words of love in his ears.


End file.
